


2 a.m.

by oisugasuga



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Diners, Flirting, Fries and Milkshakes, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 01:22:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11726574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oisugasuga/pseuds/oisugasuga
Summary: "Hello, Mr. Refreshing," Oikawa Tooru practically purrs, his voice annoyingly upbeat. "You’re just the person I had been hoping to run into."Suga tries not to show how much those words affect him, how it leaves his pulse skittering through his veins and a pleased sensation curling warm in his chest, and he manages it somehow, has had a lot of practice thanks to Oikawa’s stubborn persistence and his own coy hard-to-get attitude and the exhilarating cat-and-mouse game they’ve been playing for weeks now.It’s hard though, keeping the blush in his cheeks down and the nervous tremor of his fingertips hidden, especially when Oikawa is so close and just as gorgeous at two in the morning as he is anytime else.





	2 a.m.

Suga dips the tip of his fry into the smear of ketchup that stains the cracked porcelain of his plate, hums in satisfaction when he pops it into his mouth because yes, this is exactly what he needs, the greasy, perfect, eighth-wonder of the world fries that are a town legend at The Scruffy Cat.

 

Suga kicks his legs as he eats, his dirty, scuffed sneakers dangling a good number of inches from the linoleum floor of the diner from his perch on the bright red leather barstool that sits up against the coffee counter.

 

Outside, the sun has long since disappeared under the horizon, streetlights flickering on, the buzz of summer cicadas filling the sticky air.

 

But in here, the lights burn, neon and bright and bleeding color, the retro jukebox in the corner humming with music from someone’s generous donation of ten cents.

 

It feels like taking a jump back in time every time Suga walks through the double doors at the entrance, and he loves it, lets it spirit away any stress he has, all of his problems drowning in ketchup and vinegar-soaked fries and bright pink strawberry milkshakes.

 

Tonight is one such night, Suga abandoning his textbook and meticulously-taken notes at home and sneaking out his bedroom window, shimmying down the trunk of the old maple tree that had seen plenty of nighttime adventures in the past.

 

It had been a short walk, slipping through well-known detours in his neighbor’s backyards, past the small public library Suga spent hours perusing the books in on any given day, slipping down the hill that led to the high school and the seashore farther down until he stumbled across the diner, a few cars parked outside.

 

And five minutes later, here he is, a basket of fresh fries and a half-way finished strawberry milkshake in front of him.

 

Suga kicks his feet again, hums along to the tune dancing from the jukebox, swirls a fry in his milkshake and enjoys the salt and sweet against his tongue.

 

The bell above the door tinkles, signals a new customer, but Suga doesn’t bother looking. 

 

There aren’t many people here anyway tonight, just a couple Suga doesn’t recognize tucked away in a booth farther down, apparently too engrossed with reaching each other’s tonsils that their food lies forgotten on the table, two women discussing something over steaming cups of black coffee on the other side of the restaurant, and the owner, a young man named Kuroo Tetsurou, who’s disappeared into the back for something.

 

It’s probably another late-night wanderer, someone who needs oily hash browns and a stiff cup of coffee to revive their soul, or maybe a fellow student from school, also escaping the weight of final exams.

 

The Scruffy Cat has always been a popular place for students from Karasuno High and Nekoma Prep, has gained a reputation for being the place to slink to when you wanted to ditch a few hours and miss gym class or calculus.

 

Kuroo never breathed a word, kept their secrets safe and fed them the best food a diner had to offer.

 

Suga finishes off another fry, takes a sip of his milkshake, waits for the new customer to come into view since his back is to the door.

 

He’s not expecting them to slide into the seat next to him, so when an elbow bumps his and a flash of mint green catches in his peripheral, Suga flinches, brain stumbling before it catches on, his eyes sliding to the side to meet a familiar smirk.

 

_"Oh god,"_ he thinks, even as his traitorous heart gives a loud thump.

 

"Hello, Mr. Refreshing," Oikawa Tooru practically purrs, his voice annoyingly upbeat. "You’re just the person I had been hoping to run into."

 

Suga tries not to show how much those words affect him, how it leaves his pulse skittering through his veins and a pleased sensation curling warm in his chest, and he manages it somehow, has had a lot of practice thanks to Oikawa’s stubborn persistence and his own coy hard-to-get attitude and the exhilarating cat-and-mouse game they’ve been playing for weeks now.

 

It’s hard though, keeping the blush in his cheeks down and the nervous tremor of his fingertips hidden, especially when Oikawa is so close and just as gorgeous at two in the morning as he is anytime else.

 

He’s obviously just showered, his hair still damp and curling in dark tendrils against his forehead, and Suga can smell soap, can feel the warmth radiating from Oikawa from under his school jacket and the ripped jeans he has on, slivers of pale, smooth skin visible down his thighs.

 

Suga jerks his eyes back up, swallows hard past the lump in his throat when he catches the heated look that flickers through Oikawa’s gaze because of course he had caught Suga’s brief slip of concentration, the longer than necessary stare.

 

Suga quickly collects himself inwardly, tamps down on the embarrassment and lets a smirk tilt his lips up.

 

"I can’t imagine why," he answers, keeping his voice sweet while he dips another fry into ketchup and bites off the end.

 

"Hmm," Oikawa hums, leaning in a little bit closer, his shoulder brushing Suga’s, dropping his voice. "I can think of a few reasons."

 

Suga doesn’t bother trying to pretend that he doesn’t enjoy the proximity, that the words don’t go straight to his head, lets himself relax against Oikawa’s side and feels undeniably pleased at Oikawa’s small and subtle but sharp inhale. 

 

The next moment though, pale fingers are snatching a fry from Suga’s plate.

 

He watches Oikawa pop it in his mouth with a smug smile and narrows his eyes in return, leaning back off of Oikawa’s shoulder and sliding his plate a few inches away to the left.

 

One moment of weakness and he had lost a fry for it.

 

"Why are you here anyway?" Suga asks, crossing his ankles and propping one elbow on the sticky counter to lean his cheek in his palm.

 

He looks up at Oikawa from beneath his eyelashes, studies the graceful angle of his nose and the fullness of his mouth in secret.

 

Oikawa flashes that smile Suga’s seen so many times, the one he sends to the students in the stands during his matches, the one he had thrown at Suga the first time they had ran into each other, quite literally, coming around opposite corners on the street, Suga dropping his bag of groceries.

 

"I was walking," Oikawa answers, his voice honest and simple despite the charm in his grin, the easy mask of confidence on his face. "And I happened to spot a familiar, beautiful face through the window. Lucky, if you ask me."

 

He pairs the words with the lightest, butterfly brush of his fingertips against Suga’s forehead, tucking a stray strand of silver hair back behind Suga’s ear.

 

Normally Suga would simper, would flutter his eyelashes and maybe wrap his lips around the straw in his milkshake slow enough for Oikawa to visibly swallow, throat working, their light, easy glances at each other turning into something more serious, laced with weight and darkened irises.

 

Tonight though his brain is too fried from studying, his stomach is full and he’s relaxed, and the words he would usually say back get caught in his throat.

 

Instead he relaxes into Oikawa’s hand without thinking about it, straightening from his easy posture of keeping his chin propped up with his elbow against the countertop to instead lean into Oikawa’s touch.

 

Too late does he realize what he’s doing.

 

And then to his own horror he realizes he must be blushing now because his cheeks are on fire and Oikawa is looking at him with wide, startled eyes, fingertips lingering against Suga’s skin.

 

Oikawa’s look of surprise quickly melts into one of absolute satisfaction, his eyes glittering, and Suga can only sit, still and frozen and mortified, as Oikawa leans back in, not stopping until his lips are right next to Suga’s ear, breath warm when he speaks.

 

"You’re so gorgeous wearing that shade of pink," he tells him. "I want to see it more often."

 

Suga fights the shiver that runs down his spine, clenches his teeth together and fists his hands on his denim-clad thighs, cursing himself for the obvious thrill of pleasure that curls, purring and humming, in his chest.

 

Oikawa smells so good, feels even better this close, and Suga wants Oikawa to touch him.

 

In the span of three seconds, Suga feels something click into place, feels the facade they’ve both been throwing up disappear with the burn in his cheeks and the sincerity in Oikawa’s voice, their little game slowly evolving into something more permanent, more fixed and steady and stable.

 

Excitement leaps in his chest, a fizz of anticipation in his lungs, and he exhales, breath leaving shakily.

 

Oikawa stays close, their heads close together, knees bumping, and just out of the corner of his eye, Suga catches sight of Kuroo emerging from the back and then stopping when he sees them, an eyebrow raising and a knowing grin curving his mouth.

 

Suga flushes again and then pulls back, mustering up every last ounce of strength he has to will the color in his face down, to summon one more flirtatious grin, his pulse racing at his wrists at the words he’s getting ready to say next. 

 

He grabs one last fry, swings his legs down to the ground and hops off his stool, fixing Oikawa with a coquettish glance. 

 

Oikawa is watching him carefully, attentively, somehow more vulnerable than Suga has ever seen him in this small bubble of time, caught in between the old charm of the diner and the reality of outside where life keeps marching forward.

 

And that gives Suga the courage to speak, to make a decision he’s finally ready to give in to.

 

"Walk me home," Suga says to Oikawa, turning to leave, unable to keep one last tease from leaving his lips. "And maybe you’ll be lucky enough to see it again."

 

He doesn’t need to turn around to know that Oikawa is following, right behind him as he pushes the front door open and walks out into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> day 3 of oisuga week: fast food
> 
> i high-key love diners and the aesthetic of fries/milkshakes, so here's the fast food prompt for oisuga week (•‾⌣‾•)و ̑̑♡
> 
>  
> 
> [blog](http://oisugasuga.tumblr.com/)


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